


the road to hell

by isabilightwood



Series: there are no endings, only new beginnings [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dark Disciple AU, F/M, Parallel Universes, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabilightwood/pseuds/isabilightwood
Summary: If Ventress were ever inclined to give advice, it would be that love, in all its forms, is always a mistake. Her life has been nothing but proof of that. Yet she had to fall in, and fall in love, with a Jedi of all beings in the galaxy anyway. Of course, he’s fallen to the Dark Side. Of course, he wants revenge. She can understand that, but she’s learned, at the cost of everything, that revenge never works out well. Especially not against Count Dooku.





	1. Dathomir

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for the long delay! I should really know better than to promise deadlines for things I haven't actually finished. I'd wanted to alternate chapters of this with the next part with Ahsoka, Obi-wan, and co, but life happened, and Obi-wan and Satine were being very uncooperative, while Ventress was willing to be typically Done with Men's Nonsense. So this happened first, and I still haven't completed the other part, though Satine was finally (slightly) cooperative yesterday.
> 
> If you haven't read part 1, [one door closes, another opens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162259) , then this won't make sense. 
> 
> Also, while I actually really like Vos, he's mostly second-half of Dark Disciple Dark!Vos here, minus the mass murder, so, um, not at his best, as a warning.

As Ventress extracted herself from the twisted mess of sheets, and the arms of her sleeping Jedi, some part of her still recoiled from the intimacy of their relationship. It was why she always fell asleep long after him, and rose first. She had never been a heavy sleeper – neither slavery nor the life of a Sith assassin, or even the frequently hazardous career of a bounty hunter, permitted such carelessness. And so, she found herself consistently waking at the slightest movement of her sleeping lover.

             Quinlan had no such trouble. He slept like the dead despite his current-status as one of the most wanted beings in the galaxy. Somehow, despite his lifetime spent as a Jedi spy, breaking up slaving rings and thwarting the Hutt’s incursions into Republic space, he was capable of simply turning off his brain, and sleeping. That Quinlan had continued to hold that position within the Jedi Order even long into the Clone Wars helped raise him in her esteem, in contrast to the many of his ilk Ventress had fought when she still believed in the Separatist cause, in Dooku. And then later when she was so deep in the dark side she no longer cared about things like causes.

Or that was she had thought to be the path to freedom for her, and for the galaxy, was anything but.

Ventress walked to the fresher, half awake, and nearly knocked one of the mugs Quinlan never remembered to return to the kitchen for washing to the ground in the process. The hot water did its job in waking her half-way, and temporarily relaxed her perpetually tense muscles. A few cups of kaf would finish the job. As the hard-steam of water beat a pattern on her head and shoulders and back, Ventress was surprised anew at the unexpected turn her life had taken. She was out for herself, precariously balanced on the precipice between light and dark. Sure, she would help a victimized girl out on occasion, especially when it burned bridges she had no desire to maintain. That had not always turned out well, though, as will poor, doomed, little Tano, who accused Ventress of bombing the Jedi Temple, cost Ventress her lightsabers, and got herself executed anyway. Better not to intervene, she decided in the aftermath. Especially considering the galactic changes that followed immediately after, putting Ventress high on the new Empire’s wanted list.

Not that it changed much for her. Empire, Republic, she was wanted anyway. The only change was from wanted alive, for information, to dead or alive. Life imprisonment, or immediate execution. Neither sounded particularly appealing to her. She grew out her hair, adopted a pseudonym, set aside her new, purchased lightsaber in favor of a blaster, and no one looked at her twice. Discarded her contacts, save Lassa Rhayme the Pirate Queen, and Sugi the bleeding-heart bounty hunter, both of whom Ventress was reasonably certain would not be turning force-users over to the empire. The former out of spite, the latter out of that desire to be a hero that kept sending her deeper into debt. Ventress preferred the spite.

The only thing that changed in the galaxy was that Darth Sidious could now rule it openly. Ventress shrugged, worked, drank, and continued living.

Then Quinlan came literally crashing into her life on Pantora, tackling her quarry out from under her. Ventress had been, quite reasonably in her opinion, suspicious. And initially, disgusted. Who was this man to flirt so outrageously at her? To insist on becoming her partner? Not Kenobi, who had at least proven himself an interesting opponent, whose banter made dueling enjoyable. The obvious pseudonym of Quinn Loss yielded no answers. Yet he demonstrated his worth quickly enough, persuading her, who preferred the relative security of working along, to take him on as a partner. He even admitted to knowing her identity early on, after pulling her out of the line of sight of a clone trooper she had been too distracted to notice. Ventress buried her questions for some time, as they worked bounty after bounty successfully, and Quinlan Vos wormed his way into her heart. But the questions remained.

Ventress dried herself off and dressed, leaving the fresher for the kitchen to fix a pot of kaf. Quinlan didn’t stir, even as she banged the kaf pot on the counter. The _Banshee’s_ kitchen was serviceable, but small. Kaf ready, she poured herself a thermos, and lowered her ship’s ramp. She walked down to the surface of Dathomir, her home. The red-tinted planet was beautiful in the early morning, the swamp’s animals at their most active. She breathed in the salty air, still tinted here with the force’s mourning for her sisters. Rather than heading for the cave that had once been the domain of Mother Talzin, she ambled slowly toward the grove where her sisters’ bodies hung in their pods, returned to the planet for eternity. Mother Talzin’s altar had been overtaken by the last living nightbrother’s creepy shrine to Kenobi and some Mandalorian Duchess before Ventress first returned with Vos.

Though she was appalled at the disrespect to Mother Talzin, Ventress chose not to disturb the Kenobi shrine. She didn’t know when Maul would return, and the temporary satisfaction of destroying the shrine, and taking the mysterious, black lightsaber for herself would not be worth the consequences. Ventress didn’t need a vengeful Maul on her trail. The time she rescued Kenobi from Maul’s clutches was proof enough of that.

Though she had her suspicions regarding Quinlan’s identity as a Jedi early on, it was two months before he slipped enough in his use of the force that Ventress was certain. Falling ten meters and landing on his feet without injury was a rather obvious tell. Their bounty was less lucky. They found their Devaronian target sprawled in a pool of his own blood, the consequence of accidentally running off a cliff.

“What’s your real name, Jedi?” Ventress asked when they were back on the _Banshee_ , away from any risk of being overheard. Even on that sparsely populated jungle planet, there was a risk of that these days. She took his wrist in one hand, and stroked the veins there with her thumb.

“What are you talking about?” He jerked out of her grasp in shock, immediately going on the defense. Really, how had the idiot Jedi tricked anyone over the years? Ventress had rarely met a worse liar.

“So, you didn’t slow your fall with the force? I must be mistaken.” She leaned back, crossing her right leg over her left, and cocking her head knowingly. “Try again, Jedi. And this time, make it believable.”

He broke then, and confessed the truth.

“Quinn Loss, Jedi Master Quinlan Vos? How unoriginal.” Ventress teased him in her characteristic drawl, leaning forward to invade his personal space. His eyes widened, but he didn’t move away.

“Asajj, I –” Quinlan cut off, scrunching his eyes shut. Ventress wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they were kissing, and she was climbing into his lap. Clothes were lost quickly after that.

Though he wasn’t the most skilled she ever had, not at first, Ventress had to admit it felt… nice, to have that emotional connection, something she had never shared with any of the people she slept with in the past. It made her almost giddy, and that was horrifying.

It only got worse when he confessed his love for her, and she returned the sentiment without thinking. Ventress was almost happy, and that was terrifying. She had never asked for _happiness._

She was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It finally happened one month earlier, ten months into their partnership, and eight as a… couple. And not remotely in the way she expected. Death, she knew how to deal with. Watching someone she cared about tread the same treacherous slope she only so recently clawed her way up? Not exactly Ventress’ area of expertise. It was a Trandoshan bounty hunter, attempting to cash in the price on Quinlan’s head. Quinlan force pushed the naturally hard-headed creature into a rock wall so violently he died on impact. And she felt the dark side rising in him at his unwillingness to lose her, the last person he had left in the galaxy. He pushed it down, then, and Ventress tried to convince herself the danger had passed.

And it was a danger. Ventress had fallen far before she began the long, uneven climb into a semblance of what the Jedi called balance. First with the help of the Nightsisters, and then on her own. She still walked a fine line between dark and light, could still take a single wrong step and plunge back into the depths, and lose herself. It wasn’t a balance everyone who dipped into the dark side could maintain. From the beginning, Ventress had her doubts that Quinlan was capable of that level of control. He poured himself wholeheartedly into everything he did, without holding anything back. Teaching Quinlan to use the dark side was a risk she had not wanted to take.

But when he tapped into the dark side again to choke a witness without provocation, only a few days later, Ventress knew she had to chance it. Had to try, or she would lose him completely. So, she took him to Dathomir.

Why in the force had she fallen in love with this idiot, again?

Quinlan had made strides in harnessing the dark side since their arrival, but was it control? Wishful thinking. Not after he had slain the Sleeper when she sent him to subdue it. She was almost at her wits end for what to try next.

 She sat again a tree, facing the pond, and sipped her kaf, enjoying the peace of the morning. Resting in the soothing presence of her sisters, letting the wisdom that pervaded the ancient gravesite guide her thoughts.

It was some hours later when Quinlan found her, still sitting by the pond, her thermos long empty. He felt darker again, ripples of shadow gathering around him in the force. Ventress sighed, and pushed back her hair. Preparing for another argument. Why had her heart chosen this infuriating Jedi?

He bent over to kiss her in greeting. Disgusting. She kissed him back.

“We need to talk.” She said when he pulled away, firming her voice and expression to dissuade any jokes or deflection. It wasn’t to be.

“Again? I’ve told you, I’m fine! It worked, I’ve got this under control.” The flash of yellow in his eyes and darkening of the shadows around him belied his words. “I swear, Asajj, you worry enough to be Kenobi’s twin sister.”

_That_ sent a pang into her heart, but if the mention of Quinlan’s lost friend, it was lost in his now ever-present anger. Ventress had less to mourn of the Jedi than Quinlan, even Kenobi, whose banter had provided an outlet that shown a beckoning light even at her darkest. Who she could remember fondly, now that he was dead, and she was settled in herself. The little part of her she had never been able to silence, the part that _cared_ , mourned the loss of the Jedi to the galaxy. Yet Quinlan’s grief seemed focused less on _grieving_ , and more on _revenge_.

He claimed to have given up on following the Code to be with her, but the pride with which he had butchered the sleeper, the lack of regret for torture… It didn’t match the man Ventress (unfortunately) loved.

“I take offense to that.” She lied. “Show me this control then. Drag that rock over here, using the light side only.” She pointed at a bantha-sized boulder resting on the far shore of the bond.

Quinlan shrugged, and moved the rock. Ventress watched carefully, looking for even a hint of light in the force he wielded. There was barely a flicker. “See? Easy.” He smirked. “And to think you were worried.”

Ventress managed a weak smile.

“Anyway, I was thinking.” He changed topics, as though she had agreed with him. “We’ve been on this rock for a while. I think it’s time we took on a new bounty.”

Maybe a change of pace would do Quinlan some good. It likely would her. She was getting maudlin, staying here, surrounded by the ghosts of her sisters. “I take it you have a job in mind?”

“I do indeed. After you.” Quinlan bowed flippantly, gesturing back towards the _Banshee._ She rolled her eyes at him as she passed.

 

“No. Absolutely not.” Ventress stared in disbelief at the familiar visage in front of her. The infinite sense of superiority exuded from a mere image of the stately, vibrant man instantly recognizable by his long, white, meticulously styled hair brought back memories Ventress would prefer stayed buried. “Not a kriffing chance.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want revenge.” Quinlan shook his head, apparently surprised at her negative reaction to his foolhardy proposal.

“I tried that. Didn’t work out.” She said flatly. That was an understatement. If she hadn’t attempted her revenge, would the Nightsisters still be alive? If she hadn’t used Savage for her own ends, would Maul ever have found his way off whatever trash heap he’d spent the previous decade rotting away on?

Like everything else wrong in the galaxy, it was already decided. And Ventress was only out for herself. Or had been, until Quinlan. But being out for herself by no means meant she did not learn from her mistakes. Going after Dooku again? Would be repeating them.

“That was when he had a droid army and a government behind him! Now? Now he’s Number 1 on the wanted list for the entire galaxy!” Quinlan gestured at the bounty holo with exuberance.

“What don’t you understand about the fact that my old Master is a _Sith Lord?_ ” Ventress hissed. “He didn’t need a _droid army_ to beat me. He did that just fine on his own.”

“You didn’t have me then.” Quinlan tossed his head haughtily, giving her that grin he was sure made her knees weak. He was usually more-right than Ventress would ever admit, but not now. Now, she was too focused on Quinlan’s sudden suicidal tendencies.

“That bounty has been out for a year, and no one’s found him.” She argued, a last-ditch effort to make him see reason. “What makes you think _we_ can find him _now?_ ”

“Asajj, you have to have some idea where he is.” His tone remained flippant, but Ventress thought she heard a sense of urgency hidden underneath.

It appeared that despite her well thought out and reasonable arguments against it, Vos was determined to go after Dooku. _Men_. Why in the force had she gone and fallen in love with one? Ventress heaved an exasperated sigh. Maybe finding Dooku would help Quinlan, seeing the warped and bitter being he would become if he continued down this path.

“Why is this so important to you?” She asked. Even _considering_ going along with Quinlan’s plan was possibly the worst idea she ever had.

“I can’t take down the Emperor, or the traitor, Vader, but maybe we can bring Dooku to justice. For both of us.” All evidence of Quinlan’s former joking demeanor evaporated, his expression steely. This wasn’t just a lark to him, something he needed to prove. It was something he needed to do, because Dooku might not have pulled the trigger on the Jedi Order, but he held responsibility for it nevertheless. Her old Master had not personally destroyed Quinlan’s life the way he had Ventress’, but he had been involved. The downfall of Dooku’s dreams of a Dark Jedi Order and galaxy-wide Separatist rule were enough for her. But Ventress could understand the desire for revenge, even when she no longer needed it the way Quinlan seemed to. Kriff. “And besides? Thirty-million credits? We can be set for life, on the Empire’s coin.” His smirk returned in full force, but the damage was done. Force help them both.

“I might have some idea where he would have gone to ground.” Ventress admitted grudgingly. If Quinlan was dragging her into this, they would go about it _her_ way.


	2. Pantora

They found Dooku not in the first place on Ventress’ list, but far from the last. While Vos had been skeptical of her tactics, assuming Dooku would be gathering forces somewhere discreet to go on the attack. Ventress knew better. Dooku was ruthless when he had power, but more importantly, he knew when he was beaten. He would be hunkered down low, biding his time for an opening.

             She had not minded Vos’ protests all too much. Frustration made him better in bed.

             And he’d seemed happier, lighter, while they searched.

             The dumbfounded look on his face at the sight of Dooku was a reward in itself. Who would have suspected Dooku would hide in plain sight on Pantora, taking on the guise of a librarian in the Public Archives? Only his former apprentice, assassin, and spy, who had more than once caught Dooku in the act of what could only be reminiscing over holovids of a younger, less severe version of the Jedi Order’s Chief Librarian. Not exactly a detail included in his public image.

             It was the recent execution of Jocasta Nu, after her attempt at breaking into the Jedi archives, that made Ventress consider this possibility. A search for recent hires in places Dooku would consider “civilized” enough for habitation later, and she found him. Unusually tall, elderly human men weren’t exactly common hires anywhere.

             The ease with which she tracked Dooku down made Ventress wonder if the Emperor was aware of Dooku’s location, and waiting for an opportune moment to pit his old apprentice against the new. Or testing Skywalker’s worthiness. In which case, the newest Sith Lord was failing miserably. _That_ prospect gave Ventress no small amount of pleasure. Skywalker was no more competent for his betrayal.

             Dooku was in the process of shelving books when Ventress and Quinlan found him, his long white hair pulled back into a bun, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses his only disguise. Almost as if he _wanted_ to be found. But I so, Ventress doubted it was her Dooku was waiting for. She dropped most of her shields.

             Dooku dropped the book he was holding and spun to face them. For all Ventress claimed she was past wanting revenge, the shock on her former Master’s face was immensely satisfying.

             She smirked, and instinctively reached for her lightsabers, finding only a blaster on one hip instead, her now single, purchased lightsaber stashed away on the _Banshee._ She drew the blaster instead, leveled it at him, a fraction of a second after Quinlan did the same.

             “Ventress.” Dooku recovered his composure quickly, speaking with that arrogant drawl that made Ventress want to skewer him on her lightsaber. “And the Jedi who used to constantly distract Master Kenobi from his lessons, unless I miss my guess.”

             Quinlan shot three times in a row, without a hint of hesitation. His aim was flawless, but Dooku lifted the book at his feet with the force to block the shots. The bolts flashed against the glowing blue cover, leaving it smoldering and half-melted, but Dooku intact.

Ventress grit her teeth, and held her ground. If she hadn’t previously regretted allowing Quinlan to persuade her to chase down her old master, she did now. She had learned that lesson with the massacre of her sisters, but apparently not well enough. Even without his armies, on the run from his own former Master, Dooku was a shrewd opponent with years of mastery behind him.

             “Was that really necessary?” Dooku asked, allowing the melted book to fall to the ground with a thud. “We’re on the same side.”

             “After you cast me off and murdered my sisters? I don’t think so.” Ventress sneered. She would not be swayed by his silver tongue, not ever again. Part of Ventress wanted to attack, swinging wildly with the lightsaber she didn’t have with her. Part of her wanted to run. She listened to neither part, keeping her blaster trained on Dooku’s heart.

             “We will never be on the same side, Sith scum.” Quinlan hissed, but didn’t shoot again. There was little point now that Dooku was prepared.

             “Perhaps not. But we do have the same enemy.” Dooku said, apparently unconcerned by the blasters still pointed at him. No mere blaster would be enough, now that the element of surprise was gone. “Shall I offer the both of you a drink while we discuss it?”

             “You’re mad if you think I’m going anywhere with you.” Ventress snarled. Nothing Dooku could say would convince her to trust him enough to hear him out. Unfortunately, the same was not true for Quinlan.

             “What enemy?” Quinlan asked, sounding interested. Ventress jerked her head at him, trying to indicate that he shouldn’t listen to Dooku’s lies.

             “Darth Vader.” Dooku leaned back against the nearest shelf as he explained. Ventress wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face nearly as much as she wanted to drag Quinan out of here, leaving her former Master behind forever. “Formerly known as one Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, who betrayed you, and is hunting us all for his master like a massif does its prey. Architect of your downfall, and mine.”

             “Skywalker? The extent of Skywalker’s planning is slash with laser sword and hope it works out.” Ventress scoffed. It was perhaps an exaggeration, but not much of one. While Skywalker’s skill with a lightsaber could not be denied, his victories in battle had largely been a matter of luck or Kenobi’s planning, in her educated opinion. Skywalker’s teenage Padawan had shown more ability to learn from her mistakes than he ever had.

             “You’re not wrong.” Dooku agreed, his scorn for Skywalker’s tactical prowess apparent. “But can you truly tell me you want no vengeance against him?”

             “Revenge has cost me enough. I’m done with it.” Ventress said.

             But Quinlan remained silent, his blaster wavering slightly as his hands shook. He should have known better. Dooku was a powerful opponent, but his real strength lay in persuasion. The Clone Wars may have been the work of Sidious, but without Dooku persuading and leading the Separatist planets into rebellion, none of it would have been possible. Dooku was more than a pawn to control, a force to be reckoned with in his own right. Ventress suspected that was why he had been so quickly discarded when Palpatine’s plans came to fruition, in favor of the far more easily manipulated Skywalker. But Quinlan, whose talents has usually kept him far from the battlefields, never had direct contact with Dooku before now.

             “Without Darth Vader, who is there who can stand in the way of our path to Darth Sidious?” Dooku asked, confidant that he had won Quinlan over.

             Ventress couldn’t allow that. “The entire Imperial Navy and who knows how many Inquisitors?”

             “Inconsequential.” Dooku waved a hand dismissively.

             “How many times do I have to tell you? Fuck off.” Ventress’ finger tightened on the trigger. Before she could shoot, Quinlan pressed down on her blaster, redirecting it to point toward the ground.

             “You have my attention.” Quinlan contradicted her, keeping on hand on her blaster, and holstering his with the other. Ventress had hoped Dooku would be disposed of before he could get his claws into Quinlan, but a creeping dread snuck up on her that it was already much too late to prevent it. The second Dooku began speaking it had been too late. She should never have agreed to this.

             “Excellent.” Dooku smiled, and Ventress’ heart sank into her stomach. “Shall we continue this conversation elsewhere? I believe all that unnecessary blaster fire has summoned the guards.

             Dooku hired a taxi to his overpriced apartment, preventing any discussion on the way. Ventress fumed in silence, fists clenched in her lap. Quinlan’s face was uncharacteristically blank, leaving Ventress unable to tell what he was thinking. And the driver’s presence left her unable to shake sense into him. The ride took only a quarter of an hour, but felt much longer.

             The last thing Ventress wanted to do was enter the heart of Dooku’s domain, but Quinlan followed him into the lift without protest. She strongly contemplated leaving them to it, but she didn’t want to leave Quinlan alone with Dooku. If there was still any chance of dissuading him from this idiotic course of action, it would disappear if she left Quinlan alone with the master of manipulation who had trained her in those arts.

             Ventress had to admit, Dooku’s apartment was… extravagant. It had been some time since Ventress had last been able to indulge herself in such luxury. Since Dooku attempted to dispose of her at the command of _his_ former master, as a matter of fact.

             His attempt at ingratiating himself to her with such favors would not be successful.

             The apartment took up an entire floor on Capital City’s most expensive apartment building. The luridly green-tinted glass windows Dooku had no doubt installed as a personal touch were not to Ventress’ taste, blocking out much of the view and contrasting starkly with the black furniture, made of real wood and silky, high thread-count cloth that must have cost a fortune. Nothing synthetic to be found. Clearly, Dooku somehow still had access to his fortune.

             Ventress cringed internally at her successful identification of the materials used in Dooku’s interior decorating. Another unfortunate side-effect of her time as Dooku’s apprentice. This skill, at least, was sometimes useful in tracking down bounties.

             It took even more suspension of disbelief to comprehend that one of the galaxy’s most wanted fugitives could rent a luxury apartment on a moon heavily occupied by Imperial forces. The purchase of the windows alone should have lead the stormtroopers straight to him. Though Pantora was in the Outer Rim. And the Imperial presence had lessened since Pantora was brought under control, it’s lack of desirable resources and successful economy that depended on free trade making it a poor choice for heavy occupation, if the Empire wanted its taxes.

             Still, their failure to notice what was right under their nose did not say much for the competency of the Imperial Navy, or the Inquisitors.

             But while Ventress made a last attempt at retrieving her lover form Dooku’s grasp, she might as well enjoy what comforts were available. She kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the plush sofa, putting her feet up on the coffee table to annoy Dooku more.

             “I see you’re making yourself comfortable.” Dooku glared at her feet with the intensity of a thousand suns, disdain dripping from each word. “Please, sit. I’ll return shortly with something more palatable than your usual taste.”

             “Such beneficence.” Ventress mocked Dooku’s pretentiousness as he walked away. She turned on Quinlan, and whispered furiously. “You can’t possibly be considering this! What happened to ‘all I want is vengeance against Dooku and then we can be happy, babe’.”

             “ _That_ was before the possibility of getting to _Skywalker_ came up.” Quinlan eagerly attempted to explain himself, taking a seat beside her, and clasping her hands in his own. She fought the urge to pull away, or melt into his arms. Ventress was furious, but the look in his eyes was tempting. And nothing would scandalize Dooku more than her having her way with a Jedi on his precious sofa. “It’s him I really want to kill.”

             “And you’ll team up with just about anyone to do that, will you?” She hissed, jerking her hands from his grasp. “So much for those _Jedi morals_ you were once so proud of.”

             “I need to do this.” Quinlan insisted, attempting to retrieve her hands. She kept them out of reach.

             “Then you shouldn’t have pretended you would be satisfied with killing Dooku, because I don’t.” Ventress said, turning away in disappointment. Her heart felt heavy in her chest.

             “Am I interrupting something?” Dooku had returned with the drinks, another of those pricy wines he was forever attempting to educate Ventress on. She had always hated them.

             “Not at all.” Quinlan lied. He accepted both glasses from Dooku and took a sip from one before settling the other on the table in front of Ventress. Dooku sat in the throne-like armchair across from them, a count without a domain.

             “Now, let’s discuss our plan.” He said.

             “I haven’t agreed to anything.” Ventress sneered.

             “No, but your Jedi has.” Dooku pointed out, amused. “Or, should I say, former Jedi?”

             “I’m still a Jedi.” Quinlan declared proudly, showing the first hint of defiance since he had agreed to follow Dooku home like a trained hound.

             “Of course, you are.” Dooku said, placating. He raised an eyebrow at Ventress, wondering just how delusional Quinlan could be. While Quinlan might remain willfully unaware of the darkness surrounding him, Dooku had obviously picked up on the signs. But she didn’t have to confirm that theory for him. Ventress picked up the wine glass, and ignored him. “Now, I propose a strategy of misdirection…”

             Ventress swirled the wine in the glass and watched it settle, turning out the conversation around her. While it seemed unlikely Dooku intended to poison them, she wasn’t about to drink anything he had handled. Or pretend to like wine ever again. She rose, and headed for the bar, stopping to pour the wine down the drain on the way.

             She could feel Dooku cringing at the waste through the force, and grinned viciously at the petty victory. Petty victories were likely all she would have.

             Why was Dooku in such a rush, anyway? When she refused, it would have made more sense for him to drop the matter. Why not wait, and find another third strong force-user to even the odds? He was old but he wasn’t _that_ – she paused with her hand on a bottle of Correlian Gin, and turned to study her old Master. Outwardly, he looked the same as ever. Stately, self-assured, and unassailable. But there was something brittle in the way he held his glass that had never been there before. Perhaps he didn’t have time to wait.

             She grabbed a bottle of Tevraki whiskey, and didn’t bother with one of the neatly stacked glasses. The expression on Dooku’s face when she drank the expensive spirit directly from the bottle would be worth it. Ventress took a few swigs for courage, before making her way back to the two men as liquid fire spread through her veins.

             “How does using you as bait make sense? Vader might bring backup.” Quinlan was saying. Right, they were still discussing getting themselves killed. Which Dooku should feel free to do all on his own without dragging Quinlan into it.

             Dooku grimaced in Ventress’ direction before replying. “Darth Vader will be unable to resist the prospect of earning his Master’s regard by striking me down, Master Vos. You forget, I was once the Sith Apprentice.”

             Ventress snorted. “No one’s forgotten that, Old man. Also, your plan is stupid.”

             “What aspects do you consider unwise, _assassin_?” Her old master sneered. The title she had once been proud of had never sounded so derogatory.

             “Don’t call me that.” She hissed. “And the entire idea is _unwise_. You might as well attempt to take out the Emperor.”

             “Oh, I intend to.” Dooku smirked and gestured regally at nothing. “The Apprentice must replace the Master. That is the way of the Sith.”

             “Seems to me the Apprentice was replaced with the pawn.” Ventress observed.

             “Indeed. A blunder I intend to rectify.” Dooku’s face distorted with distaste. Rare to hear him admitting a mistake. Or was it the _Emperor_ he believed had blundered? Because from Ventress’ perspective, the Emperor knew exactly what he was doing when he exchanged wily Dooku for Skywalker the dupe.

Dooku’s hand shook as he raised his glass to his lips. Odd.

             “Your funeral.” She shrugged. You want to get Skywalker’s attention? Fine. But leave me out of it. I’ll just be taking this lug of a Jedi and going, if there are no objections. Thanks for the whisky, it was terrible to see you. Let’s never do this again.”

             “ _I_ have an objection.” Quinlan interjected, putting a hand on her arm to prevent her from rising.

             Ventress shrugged it off and stood anyway. “Is it somehow not clear to you how dead you’ll be if you go through with this?”

             “I don’t care.” Quinlan dismissed her concerns, and turned back to Dooku. “Anyway, I think I should be the bait.”

             “It is uncertain that Darth Vader would be drawn out by you, and unlikely that he would be drawn out alone.” Dooku replied. It was unlikely Quinlan could tell, but Dooku was growing tired of explaining himself to someone he considered his inferior.

             “Alright. When do we leave?” Just like that, Quinlan accepted the explanation.

             “Immediately, unless you left your lightsaber behind on that bucket of bolts Ventress calls a ship.” The Count said, rising to his feet. Without the glasses and bun that had made up his uninspired disguise, Dooku was once again the man who had brought about a war and terrorized the galaxy for years.

             “Touch my ship and die.” Ventress took another swig from the bottle. The whisky was starting to affect her, making everything sharper and less real. Exactly the effect she was going for.

             “Fortunately, that won’t be necessary. I never leave it behind.” That was news to Ventress. Quinlan was _supposed_ to leave it on the _Banshee_ like she did. So, he wouldn’t be identifiable as a Jedi by any being on the street.

             “Were you _trying_ to get us caught?” She whirled on him.

             “What was I supposed to do, leave us completely unprotected?” Quinlan seemed confused.

             “What the Kriff did you think the blasters were for?” Ventress was incredulous.

             “Uh. Blasting?” He asked.

             “You infuriating, wurrt-brained _man_.” She hissed, and stalked toward the door.

             “Are you coming?” Dooku asked, sounding put upon. Vos followed Dooku out the door. Ventress hoped every moment he spent with Quinlan would be torture.

             “Stop and think for one second for once in your life. And leave with me.” Ventress gave convincing Quinlan not to follow the silver-tongued maniac to his doom one last attempt.

             He stopped with one foot out the door, and turned back, conflict crossing his face as he seemed to realize for the first time that leaving with Dooku meant he would lose Ventress. She wasn’t sure how he had missed that. “I can’t.”

             “You _idiot._ ” Ventress wanted to scream, wanted to drag Quinlan out of here by his ear. Wanted to get back on her ship and leave him to his idiocy. “I would have been better off it I never met you.”

             “I’m sorry, I just –” He stopped, his eyes softening, staring at her beseechingly in that way that made the heart she didn’t have melt.

             For a moment, she wavered. But Quinlan’s eyes flashed yellow, unmistakable despite the green glow that filled the room. And she knew he was lost to her. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. You’re not sorry. You’re not capable of it anymore.”

             “Asajj –” He started, but she cut him off.

             “Stop. Just go off and get yourself killed with my old Master, because he’s proven himself _so trustworthy_. Let me get on with her life.” If she were still Ventress, the Sith Assassin, she would have lashed out violently at this betrayal. But she had grown beyond that.

             “I love you.” He said the words, desperately, longingly, with the knowledge that Ventress was slipping out of his grasp.

              “Goodbye, Vos _.”_ Ventress leveled him with a frigid glare, and slammed the door in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's a pretty common headcanon on tumblr that Dooku and Jocasta Nu were a thing as young Jedi, and I like the idea, so when I was trying to think of a place where Dooku might be hiding out, I was like ... why not as a librarian?


	3. Tatooine

             Vader stepped into the middle of a sandstorm, and allowed his hatred to consume him. Dooku was tempting fate by forcing Vader to set foot on Tatooine. On another planet, Vader might relish the opportunity to fight a worthy opponent. Those had been in short supply lately. The Inquisitors’ meagre powers posed little challenge to a Sith Apprentice. But here, Vader was not inclined to honor his opponent with the chance to earn a worthy death.

             The mask the Emperor preferred he wear to limit reminders of the Jedi did little to block out the grains of sand blown into his face by the wind, stinging his skin with unwanted memories.

             When a lieutenant brought Vader rumors of Dooku resurfacing in the Tatooine town of Mos Eisley, Vader choked the life out of him. A waste, really. The man’s replacement had been far less accommodating.

             The streets of Mos Eisley were empty, the only figure waiting to greet him an elderly, bearded Toydarian, his fragile, insectoid wings beating rapidly to sustain his slight. Watto, hoping to claim the reward for information on Dooku’s capture.

             The rest of the populace had fled, ants aware of the consequences of even the slightest appearance of challenging infinitely more powerful beings. He could sense no other obvious force signatures. If the analysts were mistaken in their claim that Dooku was on Tatooine, the Empire would be in need of new analysts.

             “Where is he?” Vader asked, his tone clipped even under the mask’s voice modification. A half-forgotten rage rose from deep within him at the sight of the Toydarian who dared to face him after all he had done. Even that small part of Vader that usually protested the choices he made for the good of the Empire agreed. Today, whether he could lead Vader to Dooku or not, Watto would face justice for his past deeds.

             “Precisely? How should I know?” Watto was impudent in his failure.

             “Then what use are you to me?” Vader hissed, but the mask ensured he sounded as calm and steady as ever. A useful tool, one that had proven more persuasive than his rage on more than one occasion.

             Watto protested his dismissal. “I let you know Lord Dooku was here! Ani –”

             At the use of the nickname reserved for Padme and his mother alone, the red tint of his vision darkened. Watto’s neck snapped. The lifeless body crumbled pathetically into the sand, and was quickly partially covered by a layer of sand. Within minutes, there would be no evidence of the creature’s fate.

             Shmi Skywalker had finally been avenged in full. Vader’s cloak blew out behind him in victory.

             “Count Dooku.” He called out to the shadows, the sound echoing through the empty streets. A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows of one of the many apartment doorways lining the street. His hood was pushed back by a strong gust of wind, revealing the once-Jedi, once-Sith whose presence had drawn Vader to this accused planet.

             “Skywalker. Sidious won the apprentice he always wanted, I see. Weak. Pliable.” There was no anger in Dooku’s voice, or his presence in the Force. Dooku looked older, but no less capable. His stance was firm and certain as he readied his saber.

             “The apprentice he always deserved.” Vader taunted, feeding into the Count’s assumptions. “But Vader didn’t move, waiting for his enemy to make his approach.

             The old man was surprised, used to the aggressive tactics of Skywalker, and assuming Vader was the same. But he had learned much in the way of control in the past year, since his near loss to Yoda when he permitted his rage to control him. This would not be the same. He would outwait Dooku and any accomplices still hiding in the shadows. Dooku’s assumptions would be his downfall.

             Dooku seemed determined to outwait him, but Vader held firm. Their standoff took on the qualities of the dueling romances Skywalker had once enjoyed. His patience came close to snapping at that thought, but Dooku moved first.

             “Intriguing.” He said, and ran forward, the motion ending in a powerful undercut. Vader drew his lightsaber and block in a flash, surprised to find how little effort he needed to apply to push back the man who had once cut off Vader’s arm. Vader was stronger, Dooku weaker.

             And his opponent knew it.

             Vader exchanged a few more blows with Dooku, before catching the former Sith at an angle that blasted him back into the stone wall. Still, no one emerged to assist in his failure.

             Had Dooku really been stupid enough to attempt this alone?

             No, there – another presence, strongly shielded, but with echoes of the dark side slipping out unimpeded, as though the person attempting to hide themselves was unaware of their true nature. Interesting.

             “No little assassin to help you?” Vader sneered sarcastically, though the mask failed to let the intonation through. It was perhaps for the best, not giving away any hint that Vader had discovered Dooku’s plot.

             “I will never need assistance against one such as you.” Dooku lied. He jumped to his feet and reengaged, taking advantage of Vader’s momentary distraction. It did him little good. Vader spun away, his cloak the only victim of the blow. Though now in tatters, it did not diminish the theatrical nature of the garment as he reengaged the Count in earnest. Where Skywalker had once been on unequal footing with Dooku, and lost an arm and the first to his subpar attempt at jar’kai faster than a more tactically considered approach might have, Vader was more than his match.

             Vader pushed his opponent back, gaining ground with each exchange of blows, until Dooku’s back hit the wall, and there was nowhere left for him to run. “Still no need for assistance, Count?”

             Dooku fell to his knees, and did not reply.

             Only as Vader swung the final blow did the hidden accomplice interfere, intercepting the killing blow with more force than Vader expected. The accomplice was a Kiffar with a stripe of yellow dividing his face vertically in two, garbed in the sort of black spacesuit favored by so many bounty hunters.

             “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” The Jedi hissed. He looked familiar, to some buried part of Vader, but not enough so that he could immediately place him. Not a Jedi who had spent much time on Coruscant in recent years, then.

_This_ was a dance of blades. Where Dooku was careful measured, and old, counting on experience and the volatility of the weakling whose place Vader had taken to carry the duel, this Jedi fought like a whirlwind. That infuriating corner of his mind was reminded of _Kenobi_ , though the forms this Jedi favored were different, and Vader could feel a fury his old Master would never lower himself to behind every blow.

“Die, traitor!” The Jedi’s lightsaber scored a line across Vader’s side, leaving fire in its wake. Vader hissed and pulled out of his reach, quickly reevaluating his approach. This Kiffar was not the first fallen Jedi Vader had encountered since the fall of the Republic. Nor the first to fight futilely against the new order of the galaxy. But he was the first to give him this much of a challenge and certainly the first of the fallen Jedi to wound him. Interesting.

“Finally, a worthy opponent.” Vader said, knowing it would infuriate Dooku.

Sure enough, Dooku clamored to his feet, the effort showing in every movement. The old man had grown weak and predictable.

“Your treachery murdered all those better.” The Jedi smirked and slashed again, growing cocky. Vader could use that.

He allowed an opening in his guard as he blocked the Count’s next blow, and the Jedi took it. Vader disengaged, and stepped behind him before the Jedi could redirect his motion. Vader brought the hilt of his saber down hard on the Jedi’s temple. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.

As he stepped over the body, Vader force-pushed an unsuspecting Dooku across the square and into the wall of a building. The old man bounced off the wall and fell in a tangle of limbs, his lightsaber rolling out of reach. Vader approached slowly, giving the Count a moment to recover if he wished. But he left his saber lying on the ground, and pushed himself to rest on his knees, both eyes closed as though in meditation. Vader called Dooku’s saber to his free hand, and brought both to bear crosswise across the former Sith Apprentice’s neck.

“And so, the Apprentice earns his place at the Master’s side.” Vader said. This was the final task the Emperor had set before Vader could take his true place at the Emperor’s right hand. He wanted Dooku to know what his death would bring Vader, before he passed into the Force.

Dooku’s eyes opened, showing nothing but acceptance and perhaps a strange sort of satisfaction. “If you do not learn to use your anger, rather than let it control you, you will share in my fate, young apprentice.” Dooku chuckled, but it turned into a wet cough, blood bubbling out of his lips. “Sidious cannot be trusted.” He coughed again, and blood splattered against Vader’s robes. “You will learn that as I did.”

Vader slashed with both sabers, and switched them off. Dooku’s head remained in place for a few seconds, life fading from his eyes, before rolling off his shoulders to thud against the ground. Vader left it to be retrieved by stormtroopers.

The hunt was over. Dooku was dead. This fallen Jedi was much more interesting. A friend of _Kenobi’s_. Now a darksider, at that. Vader thought he remembered the occasional mission with this Kiffar, long ago, and the man dragging _Kenobi_ out for the rare night of drinks. Not a one of the Inquisitors was a match for his skill. If the Jedi could be persuaded to become his apprentice, perhaps the Emperor could be persuaded to do away with the Inquisitors.

The obnoxious creatures were more a hindrance in the hunt for Jedi remnants than a boon. Surely the Emperor must see that, if a more skilled replacement were to become available, one who would fulfill their function and know better than to challenge Vader for his position.


	4. Mustafar

            Ventress was not wallowing. That would be ridiculous. She was merely enjoying the unnecessarily luxurious apartment Dooku had paid up through the next month.

             If she wasn’t feeling quite herself, well – watching the HoloNet News would do that these days. After the holodrama filled with mindless action Ventress had been watching ended some time earlier, she had not bothered to change the channel. She shoveled another bite of Kahlua-laced affogato into her mouth. When Ventress left, the espresso machine and bar were coming with her, whether Dooku succeeded or not.

             Report after report of the Empire’s victories, rebel captures, or supposed reforms flashed by without her taking in a single word. It all had the same effect anyway – death, death, and more death. Securing Sidious more firmly on his throne. Ventress couldn’t care less. Caring just made everything worse, anyway. It always did.

             An image of Dooku flashed across the screen, catching her attention.

             “We are now receiving reports that the threat of former Separatist Chairman, Count Yan Dooku, has finally been brought to an end due to the tireless efforts of the Empire’s own Lord Vader. As frequent viewers will remember, Count Dooku escaped the execution of his fellow Separatist leaders on Mustafar last year, due to the intervention of General Grievous. The galaxy is safe once again.”

             Ventress dropped her spoon.

             All the times she had wished Dooku dead, and she learned about it on the news. She might have given up on revenge against him, but she would have enjoyed watching him die. Yet she couldn’t relish the knowledge that her old Master turned enemy was gone, or wish she had done it herself because Quinlan – What about Quinlan? The Empire’s propaganda machine usually relished the news of a Jedi’s slaughter at the hands of its Golden Boy.

             “Count Dooku was joined in his assassination attempt by a Jedi Knight, whose identity has not been released to the public. The Jedi was captured and taken by Lord Vader for interrogation. We can only assume this step is necessary to determine whether the attack was part of a larger conspiracy against the Emperor…”

             Quinlan was alive.

             She could still save him.

             But – _captured._ That wasn’t Skywalker’s style. Had never been, even back before his fall. Could Quinlan have gone with him voluntarily? Ventress didn’t _think_ he would, but she had never expected the Jedi who had somehow remained oh so _naïve_ despite years of working undercover among the galaxy’s worst to fall. The concept hadn’t crossed her mind, until he was already falling.

             Quinlan – _Vos_ , she had to think of him as Vos now – had not fallen quickly, not like Ventress had. When she was young, and afraid, and suddenly alone, before the loss of Ky Narec had even had the chance to sink in. No, Vos had fallen slowly, ignored her warnings, taken up with the man he swore he wanted to kill.

             Ventress had made mistakes, and those mistakes were hers to own. Vos made his own decisions, and those decisions were his.

             She had no obligation to Quinlan from himself.

             Ventress sighed, and extracted herself from the plush pillows. She was going to try anyway.

             If she was going to do something this stupid, at least she could steal Dooku’s liquor collection on the way. Not that he would miss it. She would have to be crazy to attempt this without something to drink.

 

             It was only half a guess that Skywalker had taken her idiot Jedi to Mustafar. The mass exodus of Black Sun from its longtime base had been a tip-off that something was happening on the volcanic planet. Even taking the Separatist massacre into account. If a criminal syndicate was collectively squeamish, it wouldn’t have become a criminal syndicate in the first place. No, the only thing that would make Black Sun run was the threat of government oversight.

             A few short minutes of slicing, and sure enough – government oversight it was. Of the Sith Lord sort. The Emperor was apparently having a castle built for his precious Lord Vader on Mustafar, because neither of them could resist a dramatic backdrop for torture or whatever else Sidious’ pet Sith got up to. The castle wasn’t finished, but several floors were.

             Which meant the dungeons were, since to any Sith worth their salt, an impressive locale for torturing their enemies was the top architectural priority. I was the most likely place unless Skywalker took his prize directly to Sidious like a tooka to his owner.

             So, it was only half a guess. But Ventress was still risking everything she had left – her life, her ship, and her new liquor collection – on the chance that Skywalker was as predictable as ever. If it all went to shit, it wasn’t like that was much.

             She took the _Banshee_ in slow, on the opposite side of the planet from Skywalker’s lair, keeping the engines hot and life support as low as possible, without cooking herself in the metal cocoon of her ship. With luck, those precautions would cause any scanners to confuse her with the frequent eruptions. With better luck, Mustafar’s harsh conditions prevented accurate satellites and scanners from being installed. But there was no such thing as luck, and when had the force ever been with her?

             There was an abandoned mining facility at her chosen landing location, complete with an intact hanger – and a few landspeeders, left to the mercies of the elements. The first one Ventress tested sputtered and died. The second and third failed to respond at all. The fourth coughed uncertainly, but hummed to life, and kept running. She climbed into the single seat, made for a being much smaller than her own. She fit, but barely. Hunched over, with scarcely any room to maneuver in the event of lava spray or attacking vessels. But it was small, quiet, and stealthy, so it would have to do. Unfortunately.

             The flight to Skywalker’s castle felt longer than it was, every second that passed reminding her both that Quinlan could be executed at any moment, and that the speeder could die at any moment, plunging Ventress into the depths of a lava lake. The vehicle’s climate failed after only a few short minutes. Sweat dripped down her face and neck and sides, but she couldn’t move enough to brush it away. Amazingly, the speeder made it, finally giving out over rocks only a few hundred meters away from her destination.

             Ventress groaned as the speeder crashed to the ground with a bang loud enough to alert anyone nearby. She was thrown forward into the window, unable to move her arms enough to prevent her head from colliding with the hard surface. She swore at the burst of pain, but was otherwise uninjured. The door opened on her second try.

             She stumbled out, and stood on shaky legs, looking up at the castle, and its backdrop of blood red sky. In a few years, when it was complete, Skywalker’s lair would no doubt be an imposing structure. For now, it looked constructed out of a child’s toys, blocks of black metal haphazardously stacked at different levels to the side of a skeletal tower. It gave her plenty of places to hide as she made her way toward the main structure. Only the spaceport across a half-finished bridge looked complete, with several lambda shuttles docked – exactly what she would need for escape.

             There were surprisingly few guards for the dwelling of such a high-ranking Imperial. Ventress saw a grand total of zero as she peaked around corners and darted between stacks, making her way slowly but surely toward Quinlan – and Skywalker. Even as she reached the entrance to Skywalker’s monstrosity, Ventress sensed no one.

             She probed deeper, and found beings levels below her present location, both familiar and not, in the completed underground of the castle. But no one here. Ventress jumped onto the bridge leading to the castle, and froze.

             Here, finally, was a guard, and they had spotted her. Yet the force continued to insist no one was there. The red-cloaked figure simply did not exist in the force. Which explained a lot, but was… worrying. A being with a low Midichlorian count, trained specifically to hide their presence, perhaps? Genetic modification? What bantha shit was the Emperor up to? And more importantly, how many of the same had she passed in the labyrinth of building supplies without knowing?

             No time for that now. The guard ran straight at her, staff held out before them like a lightsaber. Ventress parried with her own, and attacked. The guard took the hit, and kept swinging. The wound slowed them down, but they kept coming. Only reasonably skilled, but strangely determined to take her down with them.

             Ventress growled in frustration. She didn’t have time for this, and they were directly above something extremely effective at killing. When they swung again, Ventress ducked under their arm and slashed through their side with her saber. The two halves of the body fell off the bridge to sink into the lava below. The guard never made a sound.

             The fight had drawn the attention of some nearby guards who had been patrolling among the metal stacks. Ventress groaned.

             One down, unknown numbers of creepy, silent guards to go.

             But that could wait. She ran into the now unguarded entrance, the guards on her heels. Ignoring the stairs, she dropped down into the partially exposed dungeons to land on her feet. There was scarcely any light down here. But Ventress was a Nightsister from the dark side of Dathomir, able to see unaided in the darkest night. She raced down the corridor stretching out before her, focusing on the one being in this hellhole with the slightest hint of light in his presence. Slight though that hint was.

             She had just reached the dungeons when the guards caught up.

             Two eerily silent Imperial red guards had turned into five. Proof enough that they had underestimated her. Ventress assumed a defensive stance, holding her saber crosswise across her chest and smirked. For the first time, the guards hesitated, reevaluating her as a threat. She beckoned with her free left hand in challenge. They charged.

             Three engaged her from the front. The other two held back, no doubt hoping to edge around while her attention was occupied to take her out from behind. Ventress ducked behind the leftmost guard, and stabbed them where the guts should be, in most near-humans. One of the others feinted to her right, but Ventress sidestepped the real attack, and slashed through both guards in the same motion.

             She tossed her lightsaber to her left hand, and backhanded a guard attempting to sneak up on her across the face with its blade. They fell to the ground without a sound, unconscious or dead. One to go.

             Ventress cut the head off her last opponent as they attempted to flee. A quick check ensured the other four were good and dead, and there would be no surprises from that end. She turned to face her errant ex-boyfriend.

             Quinlan Vos looked abjectly terrible. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had the good grace to ruin his annoyingly pretty face in the process. Even covered in dirt (sand?), scruffy, and with an egg sized lump on his temple, he was an attractive man. The tattered Jedi robe someone (Skywalker?) had found for him revealed his muscular chest and arms in tantalizing strips. His gaze was dumbstruck, and he looked at her as though she was some redeeming angel from a Tatooine folk tale come to save him.

             But she was here to save his dumb ass, not fuck him.

             “Hello, dumbass.” She said, and slashed through the lock with her lightsaber. The bars of light keeping him caged flickered and went out. “Ready for a jailbreak?”

             He moved more quickly than he looked capable of, wrapping her in his arms, and kissed her hard on the mouth. Despite his days old bad breath, Ventress was tempted to melt. But he felt off. She pushed him back, and stepped away.

             “You came for me, I knew you would!” The words weren’t out of character, but the tone was far too… perky, for the Quinlan Vos she knew. The boyish grin Quinlan gave her didn’t reach his eyes, now a bright, steady, Sithly yellow. Not the flicker it had been only a few short weeks ago. Even at her worst – at _Dooku’s_ worst, and genocide was often a footnote to his days – that had never happened. Vos had given himself over entirely to the dark side. She was far, far too late.

             Not that she’d let that stop her.

             “Don’t get your hopes up.” Ventress stepped further away, placing space between them. She felt any sliver of hope she’d still entertained slip away, disappearing into the force almost the way those obnoxious Jedi teachings preached she should dispense with her emotions. Disgusting. “I’m getting you out for old time’s sake. But don’t start thinking I won’t be dropping you off at the worst backwater outpost I can find.”

             “After we take out Vader, of course.” He said. And – Ventress didn’t know why she was surprised. He had taken up with Dooku, her worst enemy, for revenge, rather than spend whatever remained of his life with her. How stupidly naïve of her.

             “No.” She said.

             “I thought –” He had the audacity to sound surprised.

             “You thought wrong.” She hissed. “I’m getting you off this force-forsaken planet. When I’ve done that, feel free to throw your life away however you want. Now move.”

             Ventress took off back to the corridor, without waiting for him to follow. He did, but called out for her to wait as they passed a room containing a torture droid. He came out with his lightsaber. She didn’t ask how he knew it was there.

              Quinlan attempted to speak to her several times on the way to the surface, but she blocked his voice out like white noise. She was rescuing him, yes, but they were done.

               They met no opposition, which meant Skywalker intended to deal with them personally. It was only a matter of when.

               The answer was obvious in hindsight. Where else would Skywalker wait than atop the bridge to the spaceport, his cloak billowing behind him as though pushed there by a wind she couldn’t feel. Ventress drew her saber, and heard Quinlan do the same behind her. They continued walking, at the unhurried rate of a stroll in a park.

               “Ventress. How interesting.” Skywalker’s voice was mechanical and emotionless behind the mask she had no doubt Sidious had personally selected for him. An emotionless monster in the closet was better than one prone to dramatic fits of rage. She could sense his barely leashed fury anyway.

               “Did you miss me?” She taunted, exaggerating her customary drawl.

              “The force would have brought me to you eventually.” The words were more formal than she expected, throwing her for a loop. He sounded like Sidious had given him lessons in archaic speech patterns, rather than the Skywalker she remembered. “I did not think it would be so soon.”

              “Well, lucky you.” She smirked, and imitated Kenobi’s favorite stance, saber drawn up by her face, and pointing at Skywalker with two fingers on the other hand. Skywalker’s rage enveloped her, and he tossed his mask into the lava. _There_ was Skywalker, his expression twisted with hatred, and eyes as yellow as Quinlan’s.

              “It’s your fault Ahsoka is dead.” He snarled, which was news to her.

               “I was under the impression that was your fault. _I_ didn’t betray the Jedi.” She dogged as he swung at her with a powerful overhead, and came up behind him. She tore a hole in his cloak, grazing his side. Skywalker growled, putting his left hand to his side. It came away bloody, but Ventress could tell the wound was shallow. He swung at her again, and she blocked, again and again, but lost ground with each exchange of blows. Never before had Skywalker been fueled by this much hatred.

               “You framed her for blowing up the temple!” He shouted.

               “I did what?” She asked, shocked into giving a genuine reaction.

               He roared and struck again instead of deigning to give her a response. She blocked, but he continued pressing down. Ventress was forced to her knees. Quinlan attacked from behind, giving her the chance to roll out of the way. Without pausing to recover, she jumped back into the fray.

               Skywalker became a vortex of motion, blocking from each side seemingly without effort. Ventress was tiring. Quinlan was worse off, after his stay in the dungeon. But Skywalker showed no signs of flagging. Her saber caught against Skywalker’s and for a second that felt like eternity, she thought that would be it. Instead, Ventress was thrown three meters down the bridge.

             Quinlan stood with his hand outstretched, attempting to get her to safety. And reengaged, throwing everything he had into the fight to take Skywalker’s full attention for himself.

            This wasn’t a fight they could win by force. And if Ventress had learned anything from her many duels against the Skywalker, Kenobi, and Tano team the past, it was when to cut her losses and retreat.

           Ventress dropped to the lower supports, below the combatants, and began methodically slicing her way through the connections at the center of the bridge. The men seemed content to ignore her, absorbed in their fight. She snorted. While that served her purposes just fine, it also showed just how little attention Skywalker had paid to her tactics.

           Satisfied with the results of her task, Ventress hopped between supports towards the spaceport platform. When the arc became too short, she swung to the top of the bridge and sprinted the rest of the way down. She took a few precious seconds to assess the duel’s progress. Quinlan was, predictably, losing. But Skywalker’s tactics were far too flashy. With her height, weight, and strength, that flip over Quinlan’s head was not the best move.

          She severed the bridge’s connection to the spaceport platform right as Skywalker landed on the crack in the middle, causing it to sink into the lava below. Quinlan’s swing grazed his chest.

          Only then did the men realize what she had been doing. Skywalker dropped his lightsaber, choosing instead to jump for safe harbor. Quinlan called Skywalker’s saber into his hand as he jumped onto the collapsing side of the bridge, and ran after her. Skywalker, Ventress was disappointed to realize, clung to the intact half of the bridge with one hand. When Quinlan reached her, she grabbed his hand.

         Ventress towed Quinlan along behind her, and onto the nearest shuttle. She sat in the pilot’s chair, and began going through flight checks, skipping all but the most necessary. The shuttle didn’t need to take her through hyperspace, just back to her ship. Finished, she looked back, and realized Quinlan was standing in the doorway, watching as Skywalker launched himself across the gap, landing narrowly on the platform. Disconcertingly, for the man Skywalker had once been, his rage felt cold.

        “Tell me you’re not thinking about it.” She said flatly, knowing Quinlan was. Ventress stood, and put her hand on his shoulder.

        “I’m sorry.” For the first time, Quinlan sounded like he meant it.

        “I didn’t come all this way for you to throw your life away, Quinlan Vos.” Ventress didn’t beg, but it was close. They were this close to escape, and he wanted to throw all that away.

        He lowered his eyes, seemingly abashed. When he raised them, the sickly yellow was gone. “May the Force be with you, Asajj.” He whispered, sounding like her Quinlan for the first time in a long time, and pushed her into the cockpit.

        Ventress fell backwards, breaking her fall with one hand. Something ripped in her wrist, and something metal clanged against the floor beside her. Belatedly, she remembered that the cockpits of lambda shuttles could not serve as escape pods.

         It took her just a second too long to recover. The door hissed shut, leaving her to bang futilely against the sealed hatch as Quinlan ran down the ramp to meet his fate. The pod blasted off before she could override it, tossing her back to the floor. Out the port window, she watched as Quinlan sprinted at Skywalker with all the force he could muster. The two figures grew smaller and smaller with every passing second, until they disappeared completely.

         Despite Skywalker’s lack of a lightsaber, Ventress knew the outcome before she felt it. It felt like no time at all had passed before Quinlan Vos winked out of the force, with a single flare of bright light. There one second, gone the next. Just like Ky Narec and all her sisters before him.

          She had no more tears to give. But apparently some of her heart was left to go up in flames.

          Ventress forced her attention back to the present. Her attention was drawn to the blinking screen, which displayed a message requesting coordinates. Mechanically, she keyed in the location where she had left the _Banshee_ , and smashed a hole in the tracker. Skywalker was likely already coming after her, but there was no need to make his job easy.

           But until she got there, there was nothing to do but wait. She gathered her knees to her chest, and let her emotions run through her. She wasn’t sure how much time passed before her hand brushed against something cold, that rolled into the wall with a clang in response to her touch.

           It was the lightsaber Quinlan stole from Vader. The message was clear. The last was request of Quinlan Vos was that she complete his mission.

           The pod crashing to the ground startled her out of shock. Outside the door was the familiar shape of her ship.

           And a few meters of lava that the pod was sinking into. Ventress released the pod doors, and swung up to its roof. Without pausing, she leapt into the air, flipping once to propel herself in an arc, and landed firmly on solid ground.

           For a long moment, Ventress looked back in the direction she had come, hesitating. She rubbed both lightsaber hilts with her thumbs.

           But what good would petty revenge do her now? No, Ventress would learn from the mistakes of those who had gone before her. To face Skywalker now would be throwing her life away for nothing. She clipped both lightsabers to her belt. They felt like they belonged there, though neither crystal was attuned to her. Turning away from the wreckage of the escape pod, Ventress boarded the _Banshee_ , and took off for parts unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to upload this chapter over the weekend, but a friend was visiting and I forgot. As a result, though, my casual-fan beta has now actually seen some of tcw and rebels (and loved it) so there's that. Ventress is, apparently, her favorite, and I got several Anakin style Noooos over this. I wanted to do a bit of a reversal from Dark Disciple, and have Vos sacrifice himself for Ventress (kind of). Since canon will hopefully eventually do something interesting with him post-Order 66, I want to explore who Ventress could be under the Empire. She's a lot of fun to write and I have plans for her.
> 
> Part III is the Ahsoka novel AU, which is very loosely adapted due to time travel shenanigans and meddling younglings. I'll start posting that next week even if I'm still working on the last chapter.
> 
> I think the Vader comic is about to go into how the castle on Mustafar was built, so I may be completely wrong about how/when it was built and the royal guards might not be anywhere near it. If so, I'm going to blame that on timeline differences.


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